The Granite Key (Arkana Mysteries)

by N. S. Wikarski

  “Yes, dear. That’s the woman you saw in your vision, isn’t it?” Faye didn’t seem to find Cassie’s revelation startling.

  “But how…” The girl was still at a loss.

  “Let me explain.” Faye settled back in her chair. “Around 3000 BCE, on the slopes of Mount Parnassus in what is now Greece there was a place called Pytho. At this place stood a temple dedicated to the great mother goddess. The goddess was known by many names throughout the ancient world but she was always worshipped by the people as their principal deity. They used the word Goddess with a capital G to describe her the way we use the word God. Up until quite recently, you see, most people thought that the creator of the universe was female.

  “Beneath the temple at Pytho was an underground cave which the people of the region believed to be the center of the universe. This cave housed a round stone called the omphalos. The word ‘omphalos’ means navel and it was called that because the stone was considered to be the navel of the world. It was guarded by a great serpent named Python. Contrary to what you might expect, Python was female. She was the daughter of the great goddess and she protected both the omphalos and the oracle who dwelt at her temple. This oracle was known far and wide because of the accuracy of her predictions. She was called the Pythia.

  This state of affairs continued for many centuries but around 2200 BCE the area began to change. Do you remember those outcast tribes I told you about last time you were here?”

  Cassie gave her a quizzical look. “You mean the ones who started invading everyplace?”

  “Yes, quite so,” affirmed Faye. “Those tribes had figured out how to domesticate the horse and use it for warfare. They were able to expand their range of conquest and many of them moved away from their harsh homeland. Some began migrating into Europe, down through the Balkans and on into Greece. The tribes that reached Greece were called Hellenes and they displaced the original inhabitants who were known as Pelasgians. The transformation took a long time to accomplish. Over fifteen hundred years passed during which the Hellenes fought amongst themselves, vying for more land. At some point during their perpetual power struggles, they invaded Pytho. They claimed the temple of the great goddess for themselves and rewrote the history of the place. Instead of a site to honor the goddess, the invaders said it was a site to honor their god Apollo.”

  “Isn’t that the Greek sun god?” asked Cassie.

  Faye nodded. “I see you know a little classical mythology. According to the Hellenes, the god Apollo fought a great battle and defeated the serpent Python. When Apollo killed Python, he threw her body into a chasm in the ground. The rotting corpse emitted fumes up through a crack in the earth. In fact, the word Python derives from the Greek verb “pythein” which means ‘to rot.’”

  Cassie grew excited when she heard those words. “So that’s the smoke I saw coming up through the cave floor. It was making me dizzy to breathe it.”

  “That’s right,” the old woman agreed. “Recent geological studies have shown that the crack in the earth at that spot may have emitted some kind of noxious gas. It might have been methane, or carbon dioxide or even hydrogen sulfide which would have smelled like rotten eggs. At close quarters, the fumes would probably have been hallucinogenic and these may be responsible for the strange visions the prophetess received. It was said that the air in the cavern shortened her lifespan. Once a Pythia died another would rise to take her place.”

  “Just like Sybil and me,” Cassie observed quietly.

  Faye’s face held a troubled expression. “No one expected it to be you, child.”

  “Go on. Tell me the rest of the story.” The girl’s voice was expressionless. “What happened after Apollo killed the snake.”

  The old woman complied. “Although Apollo and the Hellenes could do away with Python, it was much harder to get rid of the Pythia. Her fame was so great in the region that the Pelasgians would have rebelled if she disappeared. The invaders had no choice but to incorporate her into their new myth. She remained at the temple which was now dedicated to the worship of the sun god. The location was no longer called Pytho, but Delphi which is derived from the Greek word for “womb.” A distant reminder of the mother goddess whose home it had been before Apollo arrived. The Pythia became known as the oracle at Delphi.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of that name,” Cassie seemed surprised. “She was supposed to be the most famous oracle in the ancient world. People would come from everywhere around the Mediterranean to have her tell their fortunes if you believe in that sort of thing. Nobody important made a move without consulting the oracle first.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Faye agreed. “Her influence in classical Greece continued from about 700 BCE until 395 CE when the Roman emperor ordered her temple to be officially closed. It was no small achievement for a woman’s words to have such power in the overlord cultures of the ancient world.”

  “Overlord cultures?” Cassie asked. She had never heard the expression before.

  “It’s our term for the rootless tribes who wandered the earth and grew powerful by waging wars of aggression. Their entire way of life depended on exploitation and tyranny so we call them overlord cultures.”

  “So what’s this ancient Pythia got to do with me?”

  “Ah,” Faye smiled. “We’ve come to the point at last.”

  At that moment a distant beeping sound could be heard from inside the house. “Oh my, that’s the timer for my bread.” Faye hastily struggled to her feet. “I think we’ll have to continue this discussion inside.”

  ***

  Cassie watched as Faye turned out the loaves onto cooling racks. The aroma was heavenly. She’d never seen a real homemade loaf of bread being baked before. Sybil and her hired housekeepers hadn’t been much for cooking. The closest they ever came to homemade was dough from a can.

  Because Faye had persuaded Cassie to eat something, the girl now sat at the table in front of an array of raw vegetables, dip, potato chips and a tall glass of iced tea. Faye was stirring around the kitchen putting her baking things away.

  “You were starting to talk about how this Pythia legend applies to me?” Cassie prompted.

  “Oh yes, quite right.” Faye stowed a bag of flour in one of the overhead cabinets. “Just as the Pelasgians and the Hellenes relied on the counsel of their Pythia, we rely on the advice of ours to help us authenticate our finds.”

  “So what you call a Pythia is like a psychic bloodhound?”

  The old woman moved to the sink to wash out a mixing bowl. She chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way of saying it.”

  “I don’t believe in all that psychic stuff,” Cassie said airily.

  Faye paused in her clean-up operation to study the girl’s face for a few moments. “Then how do you explain your dream about Sybil? Your vision of the oracle?”

  Cassie shrugged though she seemed unwilling to meet the old woman’s eyes. “Everybody has bad dreams. Maybe I’ve got an overactive imagination. Maybe I’m just plain crazy.”

  Faye smiled briefly. “And it would be easier for you to question your own sanity rather than to believe in the paranormal?”

  The girl remained silent so the old woman continued. “The human brain has many functions. Some logical, some intuitive. Unfortunately, the modern world has rejected one half of the brain’s functions in favor of the other. We put our faith in science and science puts its faith in logic. At least it did until Newtonian physics fell out of favor. We don’t live in a clockwork universe after all.”

  “Huh?” Cassie looked up blankly.

  Faye laughed. “I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to travel so far afield but I’m trying to explain that your dismissal of intuitive phenomena cuts you off from the untapped potential of your own mind. Why do you think so many ancient cultures relied on shamans, oracles, and faith healers? It wasn’t quaint superstition. These practitioners of the paranormal arts possessed real power. They understood how the mind actually works and were able to maximize its po
tential for the benefit of their people. Modern science’s contempt for the magical has created an unproductive skepticism in the mind of the average person. Quantum physics is now beginning to explain the connection between spirit and matter. Yesterday’s magic is fast becoming tomorrow’s science. I’m asking you to move past what you’ve been trained to believe and try to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

  Cassie relented slightly. “OK, I guess I can try. But it seems like you’re putting a lot of faith in what’s going on in somebody else’s head. I mean what if your Pythia is having a bad day and their radio signal to the great beyond is whacked? They might say something is really old when it’s not.”

  “The Pythia is only our starting point.” Faye finished rinsing the bowl and put it in the dish drainer. “We balance intuition with factual evidence. We don’t rely solely on her impressions. We validate everything she tells us.”

  “You said ‘she.’ Is it always a ‘she’?” Cassie selected a carrot stick from the platter on the table. She bit into it with a loud crunch.

  Faye began to wipe down the kitchen counter with a dish cloth. “Not necessarily though in the past it has tended to be that way. Women’s brains work a little differently than men’s. With regard to the skills required of a Pythia, it seems to be an advantage to be female.”

  “Interesting.” Cassie moved on to an equally crunchy stick of celery. “So how does this work? Does the Pythia find the relic herself or do you give her something you think is a relic and let her tell you what it is?”

  Faye paused and tilted her head to consider the matter. “A little bit of both actually. Sometimes she’ll feel a strong pull to investigate a site and will unearth the relic herself. More often than not we acquire things through the private antiquities market and bring them to her for identification.”

  Cassie sipped her tea. “How do you know she’s right?”

  “Once she’s told us some of the basic details of an object, we can validate its age, place of origin, probable context, and come to some conclusion about her accuracy.”

  “Is that what you did with me? Validate?” Cassie asked cautiously.

  Faye removed her apron and shook the flour from it before hanging it on a wall hook. She caught a glimpse of her flour-streaked face in the hanging mirror and hastily wiped the smudges away before continuing. “Yes, I already knew what the bowl was before I asked you to touch it. When you described it accurately with no help from me, then I was certain.”

  “So here’s another question.” Cassie changed the subject as another thought struck her. “I pick stuff up all day long. Why don’t I go into a zombie trance every time I touch something that belongs to somebody else?”

  “We have no explanation for that.” Faye reached across the table to test the temperature of the cooling bread. “It seems to be a function of our Pythia that her gift applies only to ancient antiquities.”

  Cassie felt relieved. “That’s good to know. I don’t think I could explain freaking out in a grocery store when the checkout clerk hands me my change. So how many of these antiquities have you gotten so far?”

  “Thousands, perhaps millions,” Faye said offhandedly as she began to sweep the kitchen floor.

  Cassie felt stunned. “Millions?”

  “Our organization has been in existence for centuries. My predecessors were very industrious.”

  “Then you must have someplace huge to store all that stuff.” Cassie’s voice grew eager. “Can I see it?”

  Faye stopped sweeping. She seemed to be struggling to choose the right words. “Cassie, I have an obligation to protect our treasures. If their location became known to people who want to destroy us, it would be a disaster.”

  “You mean like the cowboy who went after Sybil?” The girl’s tone was solemn.

  The old woman sighed. “There are people in the world who find our knowledge threatening. It contradicts their basic beliefs about the way things have always been and the way they’re meant to be.” She stared directly at the girl. “So you see, I can’t reveal any more information unless I know you are willing to help our cause. Will you do that? Will you join us?”

  Cassie felt uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to say.

  The old woman read her expression. “I’m sorry, child. I didn’t mean to force you to decide this minute. There really isn’t a blood oath or anything like that. I just need your promise that you will protect our identity and the location of our treasures.”

  The girl let out a huge sigh. She stared at the table instead of looking directly at Faye. Her hair fell forward over her face. “Here’s the thing. I’m not sure I buy the whole package about what you’re doing or how important it is. I don’t care about any of it very much. The only thing I did care about was my sister and some guy in a cowboy hat took her away from me. The police are never going to figure out why but maybe you can.”

  She paused. “Besides, you and your people knew Sybil. You worked with her every day. You saw a part of her that I never got to see. Probably understood her better than I ever did.”

  Cassie stood up abruptly. She felt tears welling up so she went to stand by the sink, looking out the kitchen window. “I guess what I’m saying is that if I help you, I might feel like I’m still connected to my family somehow. Still connected to the world because, honestly, now that Sybil is gone I don’t feel like I belong anywhere.” She turned back to face Faye and smiled self-consciously. “I guess there was a yes buried somewhere in all that rambling. Yes, I’ll help and maybe helping you will help me feel less alone.”

  Faye walked over and wrapped her arm around Cassie’s shoulder. “You were never alone, child. We were always looking out for you. Even before you knew we existed.” She squeezed the girl’s shoulder gently. “We are called the Arkana. Welcome to our family.”

  Chapter 16 – Troublesome Relations

  Abraham had waited, albeit impatiently, for Daniel to provide some insight into the mysterious stone object that was his newest prize. His son was gone much of the time now. Working ceaselessly in the libraries of the Fallen. Every few days, Metcalf would ask for a progress report but nothing had come to light yet. He had prayed every day on his knees that God would grant his son the knowledge he required. Apparently the Lord was testing his faith. His prayers went unanswered.

  He thought it might be best to turn to other matters. He had a flock to manage — both in the compound and abroad. It was time he paid more attention to day-to-day affairs. Perhaps that was the Lord’s intention in denying him.

  Daniel’s lack of progress in translation wasn’t the only matter troubling Metcalf. His son’s lack of progeny was distressing, even embarrassing, considering who his father was. A son of the Diviner was expected to be foremost in advancing the angelic kingdom. More than that, the Lord had spoken to him in a dream. The Almighty had told Abraham that he was watching him and would hold him to strict account for his son’s failure. Metcalf was determined to get to the bottom of this.

  The old man marched decisively to the nursery where the wives with small children spent their time. There were a dozen women managing the business of toddlers who outnumbered them four to one. They were dressed alike in gray shifts and white aprons—the garb of married women. The wives all saw him at the same time and rose as one body.

  “Good morning, Father Abraham,” they said in unison.

  He nodded in acknowledgement. “I wish to have a word with Annabeth.”

  His eyes focused on a timid blond woman of about twenty standing far back in the corner. She was holding a girl who was about a year old. Another woman rushed forward to take the child from her.

  Annabeth swallowed hard and walked forward timidly. “Here I am, Father.”

  “Come with me.” Without waiting for a sign of assent, he turned on his heel and left the room, expecting her to trail in his wake.

  He swung around to face her outside the common room. “Where are your quarters?”

  Awed by all this direct
attention from the Diviner, Annabeth had difficulty forming a coherent sentence. “Th…th…there. O…o…over that way. I mean…that is…in that direction, Father.” She pointed down another corridor.

  “Show me,” Metcalf ordered. “We will talk there.”

  With a sidelong glance of dread, Annabeth led the way. She obviously feared she was in serious trouble if the Diviner had come to seek her out and wanted to speak privately. When she reached her door, she hesitated, looking over her shoulder at him. Then she stood aside and allowed him to enter ahead of her.

  Abraham surveyed his surroundings. The room was simply furnished as were all the sleeping chambers in the compound. A double bed with bleached white sheets and a pine dresser. A plain wooden cross hung above the headboard. His eyes traveled to the opposite wall. There was no crib. All the older children slept in dormitories but those under the age of two remained with their mothers. That meant the child Annabeth had been holding was not hers. Occupying the space where a crib should have been was a pair of chairs facing each other across a small square table. Abraham noted approvingly that his son’s picture hung on the wall above the table. That showed a fitting respect on Annabeth’s part.

  The young woman stood gawking at him, unsure of what he expected. “Sit down,” he ordered. She scurried to comply and he took the chair opposite her.

  “Annabeth, when did I assign you to be my son’s wife?”

  She hesitated as if she were solving a difficult mathematical equation. “I think it was…no…let me see…umm…it would have been uh…f...f …five years ago, Father.”

  Metcalf leaned forward over the table. “And what is your rank among his wives?”

  “We are all of equal rank, Father, since we’ve all borne an equal number of children. Each of us has had one.”

  Metcalf was nonplussed by her answer. A wife’s rank was determined by the number of offspring she produced. It was also a good indication of which wife a man favored most. He had started his inquiry with Daniel’s most recent wife since the newest tended to receive the most attention from their husbands. But he could tell nothing from this line of questioning. He still didn’t know which wife was the weak link in Daniel’s chain.